Regrets
by Otabe Yatsuhashi
Summary: Life is too short. Live like there is no tomorrow, for in the life of a shinobi, it could very possibly be.SakuraxNarutoxHinata in a weird sense
1. The Healer

Disclaimer: Still don't own it. Damn copyrights!

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She watches him, silently, awed by the many shapes played out by the shadows on his face. She is aware of his subtle breathing and of the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as if he were keeping time to a slow waltz. He sleeps without nightmares this night, and she knows because when he does have them—the occasional images of blood red eyes and bloodier hands, of fading smiles and heartbreaks more painful than a thrust to the chest—she sees his brows knit closely together and he cannot stop his cries.

On those nights, she watches him, silently, crying softly to herself as well. It is at those moments when she feels the most helpless; because she knows she cannot ease the pain despite the many acclamations she has garnered in the field of healing.

It is ironic that she remains useless to him when an entire people depend on her each day. His wounds are too deep, she tells herself. She cannot heal what she cannot see with her eyes and chakra scans.

She is too rational for that.

And so she watches him, silently, hoping that on some random chance—if she is patient enough to wait—she will see with her eyes something concrete enough to diagnose and ultimately, to heal. Because she is a healer by nature; by profession and by choice, and she can find no other role to play in his life or in hers but the one that she has practiced and familiarized.

She watches him, silently, fingers lingering inches above roughened cheeks and scars she has long thought of as whiskers. She wonders vaguely if she can heal those too, but she does not try it this night. He is certain to wake, being quite sensitive to foreign chakra, and she does not want to waste a peaceful night when reddened moons could rise the next. She is content to know that it does not bother him.

So she watches him, silently, for really, that is all that she can do.

And as the sun rises, she knows it is time to turn away and leave. He is an early riser, she notes, and she does not yet wish to be caught in questioning stares and grips a little too tight to be playful and yet far too loose to be dangerous.

He is never a danger to her, in any case.

But she leaves just the same, her eyes lingering a little longer than they did the night before, and the night before that, and the one before that as well, just because she still isn't too sure. She knows­—as a matter of fact—that he will never hurt her. He had promised to protect her, had he not?

But beyond the rationality of concrete promises of worldly protections, there is something inside that threatens to break whenever he moves closer to white eyes and shy smiles and away from her often rough—for lack of anything more familiar than that—touches and careless words. She knows that it is a wound too deep to heal, even for the Gondaime's skillful apprentice, because it is perhaps the same as his wounds.

She sighs and heads towards the hospital. There, she will heal wounds that she can find with her eyes and her chakra scans. There, she can be rational once again, and for the briefest moment, she can pretend that the inexplicable breaking does not exist.

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Author's notes: Honestly, I can't write anything short to save my life! My poor attempt at a drabble! R&R if you care to.


	2. Questions

Disclaimer: Yup! Still not mine.

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Being the dead last of Konoha's rookie 9, it is understandable that there are many things in his life that he has yet to understand. Like why instant ramen takes an entire three minutes to cook when it explicitly states that it is "instant"; why Tsunade-baa-san still looks twenty-something when it's obvious that she's more than 60 years old; why Kakashi refuses to remove his mask, even while bathing; or why Jiraiya is still as lecherous as ever even with his age.

He knows it his weakness—to understand and analyze things beyond the simplicity of ramen instructions and illustrated hand seals—and he is content nonetheless with what other things he is left to work with. Unlimited chakra and a dubious albeit over-protective demon mean that he has more than enough—without the need for Shikamaru's tactical mind and Sakura-chan's shrewdness—to rise in the world of shinobis.

There is calmness in him when sporadic moments of curiosity rise. When he asks these questions: the why's, how's, and what if's, he knows he can never really answer them and is quite satisfied with that fact. He does not wallow in endless equations and incomprehensible logic. He works with what he has, what he knows, what he is given, and that is why he is not burdened by heavy thoughts like Shikamaru is whenever Tsunade gives him troublesome work.

Or perhaps, that is just Shikamaru and he was simply born with a ready scowl on his face.

But regardless of his ready acceptance of his deficiencies, (and another question to add to the list of life's mysteries), there are some things that do frustrate him whenever he fails to find ready answers.

He wonders, from time to time, and recently it has become more frequent, why he cannot smile as fully and easily as he used to before. He is pressed to think of something that has so drastically changed that could have caused a near-impossible alteration. A loudmouth prankster cannot play his role when he cannot keep up appearances. It is a wonder that no one else has yet to comment on his dampening mood.

He is more than frustrated with the fact that as he sits there, hand cupped in a pair of delicate ones, hip touching hip, eyes caught in a pair of pearl-like ones that promise love and devotion (things he has long strived for, apart from being Hokage), he does not find himself ecstatic or even remotely pleased as he had long imagined himself to be in this type of situation.

He swallows the lump in his throat and knows that what he feels is nothing less than disappointment.

Is it possible to be disappointed because of disappointment?

He is uncertain of what else to think, much more to say, to someone whose eyes are begging for his recognition. He does not move when her lips hover above his and then plant a chaste kiss almost a little too quickly to be felt.

But he did feel it. And it was hurting him why he could not feel so happy about it.

She looks at him with wide eyes and if he is reading her correctly, the way Neji had long ago in a time when disappointment never seemed possible, then he knows that she is about ready to burst into tears, which she would valiantly try to pass off as something caught in her eyes. He sees her eyes glistening and he knows he has done it again and wonders why he never learns.

6 months and he begins to doubt that he will ever learn this lesson. He cannot seem to make her happy, much the same way he cannot answer the many questions of life. He vaguely understands that perhaps, she is not who he wants cupping his hand and sitting closely, hip to hip. But even then, he likes her enough to do other things but this. It bothers him to know that like and love are too very different things.

He sighs before he catches himself but at least he isn't so slow that he has not yet learned how to placate a weeping Hinata. He grins at her reassuringly, holds both her hands in his now—and it still amazes him how easily he engulfs them both with just one hand—and pulls her into an embrace he isn't quite sure means what to them both.

She shudders and sobs and he hears her apologizing about how weak she is and all her other insecurities but these he already knows. It is funny that he has memorized her list, her reactions and her mannerisms, but he cannot grasp the problem driving a wedge in their relationship.

He knows they are at a standstill; past the excitement of its novelty, stuck in the comfort of familiarity. From time to time, he asks himself if he—no, they—will ever move forward, but even that, he cannot answer. He is disgruntled and irritated and his arms are filled with loving limbs and uncertainties. Perhaps, these are enough to account for his slow nature. Again, he isn't too sure.

He finds himself always uncertain lately.

But what he knows, he does so purposely. Suddenly, she is bodily in his arms and he carries her off to where they could be alone and he would be too engrossed in her touches and warmth to discern his hormones from his heart. He knows it is the closest he has ever gotten to cheating but then he does not mind too much when he pretends he is the prince and Hinata, the princess and that, like in all good fairytales, they are inevitably meant to be together. He finds it slightly amusing that he is able to think about things this way. For a while, it takes away the sting of guilt and the frustration that they have no 'happily ever after' after all possible mistakes have been exhausted.

In the end, there could no longer be a 'they'.

In the meantime though, while they still aren't too sure if things will work if they stick it out a little longer—both being naturally too hardheaded for their own goods to admit defeat—or if it will fizzle away into regrets in the end, he holds her the way he has learned to, the way he knows makes her feel loved and a little extra special, and she clings on like there is no tomorrow (because who knows, there might not really be).

And as they go through the rounds of loving and loving back, he asks himself when he will learn to stop pretending, to stop imagining pink hair, green eyes, and rougher touches than the ones Hinata so willingly gives. He wonders if he will ever stop wondering about this particular 'what if' and start appreciating what is here and now.

He wonders if he will ever learn to admit that this was a mistake and that not giving up may not always be the best way.

He wonders if will ever know what he really wants and if he has enough courage to give up what he already has.

And because he is the dead last of Konoha's rookie 9, because he is slow and too used to ramen instructions and illustrated hand seals, he finds himself at a total loss.

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Author's notes: Uhmm...yeah, Naruto was oober OOC, wasn't he? Oh well, that's life-er-fanfictions for you. So, what else was I supposed to write here? Ah!

To Hououza: (the spelling killed me, I swear!) thanks for reviewing. Hehe! I'm glad you liked it.

To WolfBane2: Boohoo...TT. I'm sorry you didn't enjoy the ending. I guess I was trying for that 'open-ending' feel. I'll try better! Hehe.


	3. A Gray Cloud

Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas is Naruto! Naruto! Naruto!

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When Hinata was only a little girl, she had dreamt of sunny fields ablaze with bright flowers. She would run in the greenest fields her mind could conjure up and look up at the bluest of skies.

In her mind, there had been no dull whites, blacks, or grays. Everything had been painfully bright and colorful and she had often wondered if such intensities could ever survive beyond the nourishing love of her created world.

It had never rained in her private paradise. She saw to it that whatever pains she had acquired in her real world would not be carried into her perfect imaginary one.

When Hinata was 10 and studying her family's techniques, her colorful world slowly dulled into pastels. She wasn't sure why it had happened. Some part of her felt that it had been the Byakugan's fault. Her reasoning had been a little sketchy, but she thought that because she could see everything so clearly with her family's bloodlimit, her world no longer required the intensity it once had before. It was too bad that she couldn't use her Byakugan inside her mind. She had missed the blaring intensity of her now watered-down fields and sky.

She had told her little sister, Hanabi about her dilemma, and because Hanabi was still too young to scoff at her older sister, but old enough to have a far too rational mind as was common in all Hyuugas (except Hinata perhaps, who still had imaginary friends and dreams of becoming a fairy princess when she got older) she told her sister that it was perhaps the side-effects of shinobi life. After all, nothing toned down life's brightness more than the brutal truth that it could very easily be snuffed up in an instant.

Hinata rolled the idea in her mind for quite some time and later decided that it made more sense than what she had originally thought. She smiled and thanked her sister for her help.

When Hinata was 12 and training at the academy, she saw the brightest gold she had ever seen riding atop a head gifted with the bluest eyes. She smiled and thanked the heavens that such colors did not simply reside in the memories of her once rainbow-like world.

It had taken her many an hours hovering just beyond the boy's peripheral vision before she finally learned of his name and his remarkable dream of being Hokage, and just as equally remarkable enthusiasm for ramen. Hinata decided, then and there, her gifted eyes focused unto a moving pillar of brightness and color that she had fallen in love.

In the strangest of moments, she found her imaginary world with the brightest of sunshine and the bluest of skies, even more so than what she remembered when she was young.

But her fields and flowers were still watered-down and she could find no way to restore their former glory. She found it sad and decided to stop visiting the fields altogether. After all, her real world was now home to the blazing image of Naruto and his golden spikes and sky blue eyes.

When Hinata was 13 and the three-man teams were being chosen, she inched a little closer to that bundle of brightness that was Naruto in the hopes that providence would put them together. When her name was called, along with two classmates she knew weren't her blonde-haired aspiration, she felt herself recoil inwards, silently seeking those perfect skies she had momentarily disregarded. She feared that those skies would be all she ever had of Naruto and his brightness.

When Hinata was 13 and training with her new teammates, she saw her Naruto (for she had taken to claiming him for herself inside her mind) joking around with his pink-haired companion, obviously uncaring of her irritated glares and snide comments. Hinata noted that despite the angry look on Sakura's face, the girl was admittedly pretty and slightly—noticeable only by Hinata's all-seeing eyes—amused with her rowdy teammate's antics.

That night, Hinata dreamed of blue skies and lush green fields filled to the brim with pink wildflowers of all shades. She woke up screaming and crying in her bed, fearing for once, that spring had finally come.

When Hinata was 15 and finally gaining her clan's approval, she looked with guarded satisfaction at the struggling pink-haired wannabe medic who passed by her training grounds on way to the Hokage's tower. She knew that Sakura was slowly wilting away, constantly burdened by the heavy downpours that Sasuke's shadow caused, and the lack of sunshine that Naruto's absence had brought about. By herself, Hinata knew that Sakura would never amount to much. The flowers were dying inside her mind and from time to time, despite the absence of the bright sunshine she so greatly missed, Hinata would lovingly pick the dying blooms and crush them in between her palms.

She never noticed the large solid tree that had planted its roots firmly into the browning grass.

When Hinata was 16 and news of Sasuke's demise came, she waited with baited breath, along with many of Konoha's inhabitants, at the wide gates for Naruto's return. She smiled, for the first time in the past three years since Naruto's absence, as she caught his weary eyes with her own. She saw shadows and darkness in the once clear orbs; so much hidden pain and unshed tears clouding her summer blue skies, but somehow she didn't mind. Being older then, wiser to the realities of life and death, of pain, suffering, and sadness, she knew that gray was a more natural color than the bright blues, pinks, and greens in her mind.

But then **she** had come along, even before Hinata could pull herself away from the crowd and take Naruto into her loving embrace—one that she had been saving up all her courage for to give. Sakura was there; her pink hair hacked to an impossibly short length, body thin and ragged, and eyes so green they were breathtaking. And she knew she had gasped, just as Naruto had gasped as he looked into those eyes and found something he had never thought could possibly exist. He found her lush green fields inside those eyes; large, flowerless fields that were shadowed by dark clouds and gigantic paper fans. She was there, waiting for the sun just as surely as she was waiting for the rain, not really caring if both came at the same time. She was there, weathering out whatever season came her way.

Hinata saw all these with her talented eyes and she wondered why Naruto could not find those same fields in her. She had forgotten that her fields were brown and littered with the crushed petals she had meticulously killed, one by one. Hinata's world was gray because she had let it so.

Still, she did not see the solid tree planted firmly in her barren fields, branches reaching out to the sky with something akin to familiarity. On its branches, small buds awaited their moment to bloom.

When Hinata was 23 and lying in Naruto's arms, her nose buried deep in his golden mane she smiled and told him she loved him for the umpteenth time since their relationship began. He looked at her and said the same; said he loved her too for the umpteenth time since their relationship began but his eyes held things that had never, and will never be said.

In his eyes, she saw her world reflected; her barren fields and overcast skies all washed down in the natural gray that had become her character. And for the first time since the first seed was sown, she finally noticed the large solid tree towering above and apart from her gray world, bark gnarled and far from perfect but strong and pulsating with hidden life, branches reaching far beyond her rainy clouds into the brightness of the waiting sun.

Above everything gray and water-washed, a sea of pink blossoms danced with the melancholic rhythm of the wind. They sparkled like crystals as the sunlight caressed each petal with such love that one could not bear to see them separated. And although the sun shone brightly beyond what normal summer days could ever experience, she noticed that the sky was a sad bluish-gray, the way it always was when it was about to rain.

"You love her," she said, tears finding their way into her useless eyes—useless for they had failed to see what was so blatantly displayed before them.

He nodded and brought his arms around her until there was no distinction between his body and hers. He said nothing as he kept her close, riding out her sorrowful sobs and cries.

When Hinata was 23 and crying in her love's arms, she realized she had never owned him, never had him, never will. She was living in the wrong world; one filled with sunny fields ablaze with bright flowers, with colors and intensities too beautiful to be real.

And she cried and cried as the rain clouds finally poured out. Soon, she knew, after the storm had ceased and the rain had ended, that majestic tree in her fields would grow and touch the sky and the sun would welcome it with readiness and anticipation. Because the tree needed the rain in order to grow, just as much as it needed the sun, and there was nothing it could do but wait and accept each at their own time.

Sakura was waiting.

Naruto was waiting.

Even Sasuke, covered in his rain clouds and blazing thunder, was waiting.

And Hinata knew they were all waiting for her to let go.

But the gray had seeped too deep and she feared she never would.

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Author's notes: Yeah, I didn't get this one too. It's really weird and I have no idea what I want to say. But it seemed so promising when I was writing it down. Darn!

As always, I urge, no beg, plead, pray with the utmost fervency, that you guys review! Please!

Also, for those who did, thanks a lot! It's very very appreciated! Love you! Muwah! (I get sappy when I don't get reviews!)


	4. Confrontation: I

Disclaimer: Nope! Not mine!

This chapter has drama enough to be worthy of an episode in a telenovela. Beware! You have been forewarned!

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When Hinata musters up enough courage, it is a sunny Sunday afternoon. She is pushing a half-filled cart; colorful packets and cartons of instant ramen and fresh milk (she's checked the expiry dates twice and made sure they are far enough to be consumed without spoiling) stacked patiently with a housewife's grace, sway softly to the rhythm of her steps.

She stops. She sees pink hair and an all too short skirt she personally believes is distasteful. It frightens her how spiteful she sounds inside her mind and bites her tongue before the venom seeps out.

Sakura breaks the awkward silence Hinata had been wallowing in for the last ten seconds. She's only just realized that the white-eyed girl had been standing in limbo further down the aisle. She readily waves and greets the new comer. Hinata remembers to breathe.

"Good morning, Hinata-chan" Sakura calls amicably when Hinata's cart pulls to a stop just inches from her own. She stops her perusal of the shelves and faces the quiet girl with a ready grin, her hand slyly placing her newly chosen product behind a box of cereals in her cart. Hinata's eyes follow her hand silently but says nothing. When she sees Hinata's purchases, the medic nin raises an eyebrow in mock sarcasm and proceeds to tease.

"Shopping for Konoha's number one loudmouth again, I see." Sakura smiles again.

Hinata feels like she's been blinded. She wants Sakura to stop smiling the way she's doing, so readily and carefree, and loath though she may admit it, so very prettily indeed. There is an unnatural feeling inside her hoping sorrow and disaster on the unknowing girl. Again, she bites her tongue.

Sakura reads the flash of distaste and anonymity easily enough though from her companion's milky eyes. She wonders when Hinata will finally learn the art of hiding her emotions properly. She's a little too old in this lifestyle to be making the same mistakes.

Sakura decides to cut her some slack. "Funny thing, us meeting here of all places. I haven't congratulated you yet, have I?" She takes the few steps and is beside Hinata all of a sudden. Sakura hides her smirk at how startled Hinata seems at the sudden intrusion. She can see the girl's hand twitching by her side, probably looking for a kunai pouch where there is nothing but air and a flowery summer skirt now. Sakura's own pouch is still strapped readily on her thigh.

"Ah-yes," Hinata stutters, realizing her rude behavior a little too late. She takes Sakura's proffered hand and shakes it, straining to keep her grip light and friendly. She knows that Sakura is stronger than her in any case. It would be stupidity to provoke the Gondaime's apprentice, especially when she is being a gracious loser. That last thought brings a smile to her face.

Sakura grins in response, although she has some idea as to what Hinata's thinking. She decides to play dumb instead and continues the conversation. "So, it's Uzumaki-san now, isn't it? I'm sorry I wasn't able to attend the ceremony. My mission was extended and I was unable to return in time. I heard from Ino-chan though that it was a very beautiful wedding."

Hinata smirks but mellows it out into an accommodating smile before Sakura notices the shift. She nods in understanding and puts a reassuring hand over Sakura's. When she speaks, it is soft, polite and graceful, the way the old unimposing Hinata used to be.

"It was beautiful, yes. I'm only sorry that you had not been able to attend. Naruto-kun had been looking forward to sharing his happiest day with his teammate but neither of us can fault you for doing what is expected of you. You are indeed a loyal kunoichi of Konoha."

She feels Sakura's grip tighten a millisecond before the girl retrieves her hand from her own and lets it dangle loosely at her side.

"Yes, well, when duty calls, I answer," Sakura replies with an airy tone. She brushes her hand through her hair, now long and lustrous, as it had been in her younger days, and Hinata eyes her with a certain degree of grudging envy as the fingers glide easily through pink silken strands. Naruto had said something about those strands. Those fingers as well. Hinata wants nothing more than to chop both off. Instead, she seethes silently.

A discomfited pause blooms between them, Sakura with her hand toying through her hair, Hinata with her eyes willing the girl in front her to die and disappear. Suddenly, Hinata feels the world compressing, shelves upon shelves of women's products standing as condemning witnesses to her irrational jealousy. She wants to move away but Sakura is eyeing her with that questioning gaze as if she knows Hinata has not yet said her peace. "She's waiting," Hinata thinks, "She knows and she's waiting."

Sakura coughs and the aisle in nothing more but an aisle of grocery products once more. "Well, are you looking for any particular product?" Sakura says, moving back towards her own cart.

Hinata perks up at the question. She answers readily and with a certain amount of pride she had never had, even after mastering the Kaiten just last spring. "Yes. I'm in need of a pregnancy test, actually. It's a bit early to check with the byakuugan but I've been having symptoms as of late. I'm too excited to wait though, so here I am."

Sakura's eyes widen for a moment but her features melt into one of easy and genuine happiness at the news. Hinata is shocked and a little off-balanced. She had thought the news would press Sakura's loss more deeply than the wedding had. She had thought Sakura would stop smiling at last.

"I'm glad," Sakura says, though her voice is somewhat soft and cautious. She swallows the tears without effort but keeps her solemn tone. "Naruto deserves it, I mean, you both do. He needs a family. You have my congratulations, Hinata-chan. Really, I am happy for the both of you."

Hinata almost chokes. She can feel the sadness rolling off of Sakura in waves and yet she cannot bring herself to be happy about it. There is a familiar longing there she had been too used to as a child and a selfless love that she had long ago forgotten. Sakura was genuinely happy for them. Just as surely as she is willingly killing herself inside at this moment.

Guilt claws tightly at her chest and the aisle begins to pulse inward once again, as if condemning her for the girl's plight. But Hinata refuses to buckle and instead clings on to the one sure feeling she has in regards to Sakura—anger.

"And you," she seethes, pent-up venom finally oozing out through her crisp polite words, "I see you're here for a reason as well. Although I doubt it's the same as mine." Hinata eyes her with condescending eyes so much sharper than Neji's had ever been.

Sakura stares at her, mildly shocked, but nods embarrassedly in answer. "Ran out of a few herbs. I suppose there's nothing wrong with the way civilians do it, though." Her laugh is strained but she struggles to keep the mood light and un-confrontational. She'd really rather just turn tail and run but Hinata is glaring daggers at her for some apparent reason. She doesn't want a fight, most certainly, but she'd rather the two of them got rid of the bad blood hovering between them before it affects someone else.

Sakura keeps still, her knuckles growing white at the tightness of her grip on her cart's handle bar. She's resolved to hold down the fort until she's weathered Hinata's storm.

"How many now, Sakura-san? I don't mean to be rude but the rumor mill has been spinning and Naruto-kun is more than disturbed by them. I'd rather he got the actual count from the horse's mouth, just so there's no doubting his precious teammate's innocence."

Green eyes narrow in barely contained rage. Beneath Sakura's fingers, the handle has cracked. "Not to be rude as well but I believe it is none of your business, neither yours nor Naruto's." Sakura's resolve had been flushed down with her patience. She didn't think Hinata could go so low. "My personal life has nothing to do with you."

Sakura turns her cart in sharp jerky motions and walks away, the sharp clacking of her heels punctuating the indignant anger she feels. Hinata's voice stops her before she can turn the corner and breathe safely again.

Hinata's gaze is locked unto Sakura's tense shoulders, digging holes with sheer will. She isn't through yet. "It has everything to do with me, Sakura-san," she hisses, her voice low and menacing and Sakura cannot help but cringe at how accusing it sounds, "especially when my husband murmurs your name in his sleep, screams it reverently when he comes inside me, recites it like a prayer even in the most mundane situations."

Hinata's voice rises to a shrill scream, her biting words boring down on Sakura like an inescapable rain of senbon needles. "Do you know how that feels? To know that the man you love only clings to you because the one he loves has shun him for the sake of casual sex with random men she picks up from the streets? What kind of painful humiliation I go through whenever he tells me he loves me but his eyes flicker towards your form over my shoulder? What kind of hell it is to devote everything I have to him and still be unable to surmount all that you are in his eyes?"

Sakura can feel the spikes in Hinata's chakra pattern, can feel the anger and contempt like the palpable heat, can hear the girl's harsh breathing and broken sobs. At that moment, it hits her without mercy.

She hadn't known. Oh god, she hadn't known. What could she say? She doesn't know anything at all.

Sakura turns slowly, her body laden with so much uncertainty and newfound mistakes that it hurts to even face Hinata's contemptuous stare. "I-I"

"Save your apologies, whore. It does none of us any good!"

Sakura's hackles rise and before she could stop herself, she had traversed the distance between them and had pushed Hinata up against one of the shelves. Hinata's chokes as she struggled for breath brings Sakura enough presence of mind to put the girl down carefully and take a step back. Hinata leans back on the shelves, winded, still gasping, but the anger in her eyes had not wavered at all.

Sakura is stunned into silence, Hinata goading her on with her glare. Sakura feels as though she were the one being choked and no amount of struggle could take the crushing fingers away from her throat. She stutters, stops, reaches out towards Hinata but recedes back to her space when her hand is slapped away. For the first time in so many years, she truly wants to cry.

"I don't know what to say," she begins, her voice cautious and her eyes lingering shamefully on her twisting fingers. She cannot meet Hinata's heated gaze. "I have nothing to say, to make it all right again. Tell me what you want me to do. I don't- no-I can't live like this knowing it's hurting you so much…"

Sakura sobs into her hands, pushes all the weakness in like she had done so many times in the past, but for some odd reason, the tears refuse to stop. "Please, Hinata. I need to make it right. What do you want me to do?"

Everything is bearing down on her and she finds it difficult to keep upright. Sakura falls, half-clinging unto Hinata's thin arms for strength the girl isn't willing to give, and slides down to her knees. She's sobbing silently, trying so desperately to hold everything in and keep herself whole but the breaking doesn't stop. She holds on tighter, uncaring if her fingers have dug half-moons into Hinata's skin, willing her to say something- anything to lessen the burden.

Hinata looks at her with a mixture of disgust and pity. She doesn't deign to push away from Sakura's bruising hold. Instead, she looks up, her milky eyes misting until the concrete ceiling of the grocery store is nothing more than a grayish haze. The tears fall and she lets everything fade away from her gaze.

"Tell me why. You can't possibly still love that traitor….and after everything Naruto's done for you," Hinata whispers after an eternity, her voice strangely peaceful despite her earlier outburst. She feels Sakura cringe against her but says nothing of it.

"You should know…," Sakura begins, her eyes locked unto the ground, "how I feel about him."

Hinata nods. She's known that for a while now but she knows she won't be satisfied until she forces the words out of Sakura herself. She needs to know she isn't the only one hurting in this haphazard relationship. But seeing her there; Naruto's perfect kunoichi sadly broken and fragile on her knees, she cannot find the consolation she had been so desperately searching for.

"Then why?"

"Between us, there's a hole that cannot be filled…like two sides of a puzzle, a lock cut at the center," Sakura looks up, her green eyes begging Hinata to see into her and understand.

Hinata shakes her head in reply. "No, I don't. I can't."

"I cannot make him happy!" Sakura screams, "I can't fill in that space between us! When we're together, the emptiness becomes so pronounce, like a gaping hole pulling us both in, encompassing everything we are. He will only get hurt! Oh gods, I love him too much to see him suffer silently every time we're together. Sasuke's there, haunting us both, condemning us for his betrayal as well as his own. Can't you see? I can kill him, just by being there, always a reminder of what we've lost, what could've been. I am his failure!"

Hinata pushes Sakura back, her eyes blazing with renewed indignation. She holds Sakura's arms in place and forces her tear-streaked eyes to meet her own. "And you think that justifies what you have done, pushing him away and replacing him with men that mean nothing to you, that cause you no pain?" Hinata shakes her; is somewhat surprised at the power in her arms but continues until she sees that Sakura has digested all she's said. "Because Naruto is your failure too, isn't he? He reminds you of everything wrong in your life just as surely as your remind him of his! The only difference is that he isn't a coward like you!"

"What do you want me to say to that?" Sakura replies, all the fight gone from her voice. "I am a coward. I don't deserve him."

"Is that it? Is that all?"

"I had hoped-I had hoped that he would find happiness in you," Sakura admitted. "I knew you loved him…I thought it would be enough to fill his half of the emptiness. I thought you could save him."

The sting of Hinata's hand buzzes through her cheek like a bolt. Sakura falls on her haunches; staring in surprise at Hinata's heaving form, arm still raised at her side.

"Don't you dare put the blame on me! I have given him everything! Everything! I have forgiven him all his faults, even those concerning you! Do I not deserve happiness as well? Isn't that enough to win his love from you?"

Sakura's listless laugh startles them both and Hinata's anger deflates into nothingness. Suddenly she feels so tired, like she'd been fighting a losing battle and had finally lost, but at such a cost that she wished she had given up from the very beginning. She falls on her back and leans her head against stacks of sanitary napkins. Across from her, she sees a broken doll, too far gone to ever be mended again.

"When I sleep with other men, I imagine it's him." A sigh escapes from Sakura's lips and her voice becomes even softer, as if she were confessing her deepest secret. "For a few seconds, when I'm blind and deaf and senseless, I can't feel the emptiness and I imagine that it's him with me and for once…we are free from Sasuke."

Hinata watches dispassionately as Sakura hugs herself tightly, curling into herself as if to hide from the world. "I live for those few seconds now. What kind of an existence is that?" she confesses. She laughs again and everything falls silent and empty once more.

Hinata runs a hand through her own short locks, makes quick work of arranging them into place then proceeds to clean her face with a handkerchief. It doesn't take Sakura a second look to know it's Naruto's.

When she's done, she's composed herself enough to keep her voice and tone mostly flat; even slightly conversational, and Sakura's skin prickles at the sound. "He does the same with me. When he calls out your name, I imagine you're both in the same place."

Hinata's smile is sardonic yet oddly comforting to Sakura. "It's like he's cheating on me but not. He doesn't remember it though…..or maybe he's just gotten better at lying."

Sakura chuckles. "He can't lie," she replies outright and a silent agreement passes between them when Hinata laughs as well. They could at least agree on one thing. It is a welcome reprieve to them both.

"So," Sakura begins as she pushes herself off of the floor and steadies her footing. She makes a gesture towards the other girl but pushes down the urge and instead holds her hands to her sides. She knows Hinata won't take her help.

"What now?" she finishes lamely, her voice trailing off with the burden of uncertainty.

Hinata stands as well, though more gracefully and with a newfound resolve Sakura cannot help but admire. Hinata's eyes are solid and steadfast; Sakura's gaze wavers and settles on the girl's collarbone instead. A simple silver band held by a thin chain glints teasingly at her. An engagement ring. She can see Naruto's childish hand carving out the couple's names on the underside of the ring.

Her heart stops for a second. It is with dismay that she realizes she's still alive.

The creak of Hinata's cart brings Sakura back from her daze. She focuses to see Hinata slowly passing her, pushing her cart past her unmoving form. When they are side-by-side, Hinata pauses but doesn't look her in the eye. Silently, Sakura is thankful.

Hinata's voice is quiet but firm, the underlying threat ringing clearly in Sakura's sensitive ears. "Keep away from our family. I don't ever want to see you again."

And with that, Hinata leaves Sakura behind by the shelves. Vaguely, she realizes the girl has slumped down to the floor once but more she finds neither satisfaction nor pity in the thought.

Her bags filled with colorful packets and cartons of instant ramen and fresh milk, she steps out of the store and is blinded by warm light. Outside, it is a sunny Sunday afternoon.

* * *

Author's notes: This chapter sucks! I hate it! I really do! I just might hate it enough to actually bother editing it again, depending of course on your comments! So wink wink! R&R already! But seriously speaking, I hate it but it's a necessary evil. I think I needed to get the problem out in the open and as Hinata said, "It's better to get it straight from the horse's mouth!" Poor Sakura though. Don't like it when she's being weepy but again, a necessary evil! The pains of authorhood! Oh! Three guesses on what naughty Sakura was buying! Hehe! 


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